


aeonian

by soleils



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Character Study-ish, Fluff, M/M, Rated for Language/Themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-20
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-01-03 18:58:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12152799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soleils/pseuds/soleils
Summary: An illustration major in love with a city, a med major looking for his piece of paradise, and puppies. But one of them is on borrowed time.(Alternatively: Ten's a cynical college student who doesn't believe in romance and overcompensates his emotional unavailability by being superficially charming; then he falls in love.)





	1. dog daze

He can’t help but let an infectious grin spread across his face as a dozen puppies nibble and lick at his fingers, tails wagging furiously, fighting for his attention.

“Don’t worry babies, you’re all safe now.” He whispers to the tiny masses of fur naturally colored a pale sunny hue.

Swiftly doing a head count, and hoping there weren’t any rogue pups, he returns them to the ratty cardboard box he found them in.

Ten’s daily mundane conversations with the cute animal rescue volunteer that always stopped by his register at _Heads to Tails_ had finally come in handy. He knew exactly how to reassure the abandoned litter and get them to trust him enough to not jump out of the cardboard box. It seemed to have been their only home for the several weeks they had been living, and luckily, they appeared to be just old enough for adoption. So naturally, Ten couldn’t just leave them _here_. Especially not when here was a destitute alley only a block away from shop. And he knew Taeil wouldn’t be able to resist their puppy eyes, Ten’s included.

By the time he made it to the frosted sliding doors of HTT, half of the litter had already tried to jump ship and the other half had chewed down the box to a barely functioning container. Holding the tattered cardboard as if it were attached to his hip, he welcomes the artificially cool air, a break from the thick heat slowly oozing out from urban concrete _._ The pet shop/adoption center’s exterior was straight out of a 90s Christmas movie, the kind set in a sleepy, Midwestern town blanketed in snow for maximum heart wrenching effect. Taeil said it was his idea of using not-so-subtle emotional manipulation as a marketing tactic, but the sparkle in his manager’s eyes as they opened shop every morning was hard to miss, revealing pure sentiment. Or, it could just be the thousand flecks of glitter reflecting in his eyes from the frosted layer of molded plaster made to resemble fresh snow on the roof.

Occasional customers would grumble at Ten’s register and say it looks tacky among soaring contemporary skyscrapers, but no soft-hearted potential owner would wander in looking to adopt a ball of fluff and succumb to buying nostalgia themed accessories in a sterile cinderblock. And it felt like home. So it wasn’t a bad part time gig for a Thai exchange student trying to breeze through his last semester in the heart of Chicago. He had already pushed his luck asking to stay for one more semester, but combined with his flawless GPA and some charm he pulled it off. The city was comfortable. And Ten liked comfortable.

But what _wasn’t_ comfortable was the tennis ball that had just smacked him in the face. He hadn’t even made it three steps inside. Balance thrown off by the unexpected, with puppies blissfully unaware that his grip was slipping from the box as he staggered backwards from the shock of the impact. Just another thing to add to the list of occurrences that were interrupting his usual morning routine.

And it wasn’t going to stop there.

A hand slid to his back to steady him, while another made its way to where his own was losing its grip on the box of puppies.

“Are you ok?”

The warm timbre resonated in Ten’s ears.

“Yeah, thank you.”

“I was actually asking the puppies.”

Ten scoffed, flashing an intimidating smile, as he let out an emphasized “… _right_.” His lower back tingled, hyperaware of the heat radiating from the hand that steadied him.

He locked onto a pair of playful umber eyes focused on him that belonged to a subtly handsome face. The circle-rim glasses that distracted from dark circles, black backpack straps digging into shoulders covered by a faded blue tee and tucked into ripped light-wash skinnies, were a dead giveaway that he was a student. But he definitely didn’t go to Columbia, Ten would’ve noticed.

These details were all the more obvious at the proximity they now were, with Ten’s nose just a breath away from his chest. He even noticed the way dark brunet bangs unevenly grazed the top of his frames. Ten almost expected him to smell like a vague mix of something clean and woodsy layered under sweat lingering from public transportation, but instead there was the acidic rubber of (now several) new tennis balls rolling and gathering around them.

They let a few more silent seconds pass, holding eye contact as if they were both waiting for the other to show signs of a rapid heartbeat or blooming embarrassment.

But Ten had to clock in, explain the puppies and inevitably clean up the mess whose instigator was still unknown. He didn’t have time for cinematic love at first sight scenes, especially not if the backdrop was an equally romcom-esque set up in a pet shop. The thought was no less than repulsive.

He clears his throat, glancing back and forth from the soft gaze directed at him to the arms that had helped him. “Uhm, I think we’re good.”

The stranger’s eyes widen innocently before looking away, as if they hadn’t been in that position for seconds that were lacing into a full minute. He gently lifts both of his hands from their places while slipping the box out of Ten’s relaxed grip.

“Sorry, I get sticky fingers when I see cute things in distress.” He says to the puppies now lapping at his fingers, but the smirk pulling at the naturally curved ends of his mouth betray him. A not so subtle attempt at flirting that Ten hadn’t missed.

He already had a quick quip ready to respond, but Taeil had finally made an appearance, running up to them and avoiding still rolling tennis balls with a flustered look on his face. 

“Ten! Ten. Oh my god, oh my god I really am the clumsiest boss. Did one hit you?” Taeil grabbed onto the nearest metal cube full of dog toys, catching his breath. He looks up, noticing the stranger for the first time. “Johnny?” He starts mumbling, “I’m so so sorry for this mess, I’ll clean it myself, I was just coming from the back and there was this unfortunate puddle left over from our morning etiquette lessons that was _a lot_ more slippery than it looked and I had this brand-new bag of pristine tennis balls a—”

“Taeil, it’s totally ok man.” Johnny interrupted the manager, shifting the box from below his rib cage to his chest.

The fact that they knew each other didn’t bother Ten. Taeil was an active owner, he engaged with every customer that went in to adopt, that wasn’t surprising. It was the fact that he felt the need to explain himself so extensively to…Johnny, is what did. But he wasn’t going to dwell on it, or anything else Johnny related, considering he was never going to see him again.

He moved closer to Johnny, taking that opportunity to take the puppies back from shameless hands, and since Taeil was already here, he could pitch keeping the puppies.

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind, but I thought it would be a good idea to bring you these homeless puppies.” Johnny had noticed Ten step toward him and anticipated. He’d stolen Ten’s line whole still wearing the same smirk since “saving” Ten. “They kind of _fell_ into my lap as I was coming from class.”

“Are you kidding? Of course I don’t mind. I could never turn down a litter of puppies.”

Yes, yes, he could. And he _has_. A couple just last week had walked in asking him if they could leave an unexpected litter here, but Taeil refused. He obviously didn’t enjoy it, but he always mumbled something about regulations restricting them from housing only dogs rescued by certified organizations since they’re privately owned or some other bureaucratic nonsense. It was dumb. And Taeil saying yes so quickly to this _random_ threw him for a loop. He was convinced it would’ve taken less eyelash fluttering from this Johnny guy and more emotional guilt tripping.

But whatever. Puppy problem solved. And hopefully this meant Johnny was leaving that much sooner. He wasn’t a stranger to starry-eyed customers but the way Johnny looked at him was a different league entirely, and he wasn’t about to admit to himself that he liked it.

He resisted rolling his eyes at this change of events, because in their own annoying way they still ended up how he planned.

Without as much as a glance in Johnny’s direction he stepped over the balls still scattered at the entrance. “I’ll just go clock in.” He said in passing to Taeil, who absentmindedly nodded in his direction, too immersed in a conversation with Johnny about breed mixes he’d love to rescue and have at the shop.

 

 

There was only one computer in HTT that had their time card software, and it was conveniently in Taeil’s office all the way in the back left corner of the shop, at the end of the bathroom hallway.

The shop itself was as quiet as it could be at full animal capacity, and it was just Taeil and Ten for the closing shift today. His regular shift was opening with Taeil, four out of the seven days of the week, which mean he wasn’t supposed to be working. But, his other two coworkers (that he’d never seen and wasn’t entirely sure they existed) had bailed, on account of some virus going on that they just happened to contract at the same time. So here he was, coming in on a Saturday evening, sacrificing the one day he had completely free.

He took his time clocking in, taking a minute to sit down in the plush leather office chair Taeil kept all to himself. The office itself was relaxing to be in, the walls painted a pale blue with impressionist replicas of Monet and Pissarro hanging on minimalist frames. The strikingly modern glass top desk was kept clean with only the necessary on it, while more important documents where organized and shelved in the white cubicles that took up most of the back wall. It was a completely different world that directly mirrored the calm demeanor of his manager.

He tore off the time card that emerged from a compact printer hooked up to the pc, walking outside to grab a navy blue apron clipped with a walkie talkie set from the hooks outside. It was going to be a long four hours and hopefully Johnny would be gone by the time he returned to the registers.

The front of the store was just as nostalgia inducing as its exterior. The outer walls housed rescued dogs and cats, with one wall entirely for puppies and kittens. The main floor was full of wooden shelves dedicated to the needs of the animals, even self-indulgent sections like clothing and custom collar making for the humans. Customers always complimented the thought that had been put into the atmosphere, and secretly Ten did too. Taeil had invested his life savings into his shop, even if he never admitted it. His manager made sure to thank the donors and customers first, always.

As he walked past rows of dry food, litter boxes and chew toys, he’d barely made it half way to the front before Taeil’s voice crackled into his earpiece. They had to wear walkie talkies with their respective ear pieces and mics for what the brand representative called “streamlined communication” but what was more of a headache.

“Ten! Could you do me a favor please, you’re all clocked in, right?” His tone a honey he reserved for customers, or when he knew Ten wasn’t going to enjoy whatever was asked of him next.

He quickened his pace; the sooner he got up there the sooner it would be over.

Unfortunately for him, the closer he got to the front of the store the clearer the figure of a Johnny with arms overflowing with puppy supplies at _his_ register became. The portrait complete with the usual smiling and considerate store manager plus one new puppy squirming in his arms.

“There you are!” He appreciated Taeil. He really did, but today that warm smile was more sickening than anything else, and he had Johnny to thank for it. “I just need you to set Johnny up _officially_ in the system and cash him out for everything else. He’s already filled out the adoption papers, and I would close him out, but I really do need to haul all of those tennis balls back.”

Taeil waited until Johnny emptied his arms onto Ten’s register before handing him the new puppy, leaving to face the neon hazards rolling around the entrance.

Johnny wasn’t lying when he said he had a weakness for cute things in distress, immediate or not. So Ten’s annoyance melted just enough to mildly ring up all of the essentials Johnny needed for his new baby, that looked ecstatic to have a home.

He miraculously managed to shove everything in HTT’s biggest bag and, of course, Johnny effortlessly slung it over one shoulder while still comfortably carrying his puppy with the other hand. If he was any common romantic he would’ve been enamored by the sight of it all, but he knew better, and he was still annoyed at Johnny’s nonchalance. So he waited for the lengthy receipt to print and wordlessly handed it over with a rehearsed smile.

But Johnny had other plans. He placed the still nameless puppy on the now clear surface of the register to free up a hand, forcing Ten to wait with his receipt in hand and prolong their interaction.

The brunet made sure their eyes met before touching his fingers against Ten’s.

"Go on a date with me.”


	2. artifice

Ten believed in fate. Kind of. He kind of believed in a lot of things. He kind of believed in astrology and the zodiac. He kind of believed in life outside of earth. He kind of even believed that Avril Lavigne was replaced by a clone. Or, he believed in the possibility of it all.

The one thing he didn’t believe in was romantic love—with another human being at least. Because he loved the puppies at the shop. He loved his mom. He loved his major. He loved the way his pencil etched beautiful creations he could call his own. And he especially loved watching the sun dissolve into Lake Michigan every evening during the golden hour, causing wispy clouds to blush from its warm touch. But romantic love between two people? _Please._ People who lie, cheat and steal? People who hurt themselves and each other? People, who are narcissistic, self-gratifying, and manipulative? Because after all, he was human too. He knew it was innate human vice. Humans were fated to hurt each other, intentionally or not.

Sure, he dated, (read: flirted and ended up in questionable beds) just like everyone else. But the infatuation or lust or whatever it was that had brought them together, never evolved. He got bored too quickly, facing disillusionment when his partners’ negative traits bubbled to the surface and when he couldn’t get over his own.

So maybe the acceptance of such a lonely fate was why he agreed to meet at this bar tonight.

The bar was an interesting choice. Its name was straightforward and true to the atmosphere— _Paradox_. It was rococo style décor, complete with a gaudy ceiling of mirrored tiles framed by gold leaf crown molding. The floor was a deep cherry hardwood, a stark contrast to the creamy eggshell walls with gilded ivy vines reaching upwards and carving ovals into the façade. Plush velvet curtains hung from each oval, open to a three arm candelabra emitting amber light. This pattern repeated along every side, even the walls behind the physical bars. There were dual bar counters, one on each side of the cleared dance floor, both the same rich cherrywood that looked as if it had grown from the floor itself.

It was still too early for collegiate regulars and adventurous bar-hoppers to start a steady stream of patrons, so Ten took the opportunity to sit at the ornate barstool farthest from the entrance and closest to the back wall. It was always a good idea to be next to the bathrooms, they could be a back door or a bedroom. The playlist resonating against the walls was a modern mix of neo-r&b and sultry electronica conflicting with the baroque surroundings.

A slender woman wrapped in a crushed velvet corset embroidered with gold thread, spun into intricate detailing of flora and birds, stopped wiping glass flutes and walked over to him. Thick, midnight curls effortlessly cascaded past gleaming shoulders, with remnants of body glitter that had dissolved into the rich fawn of her complexion, the same golden hue that saturated the atmosphere.

“Can I get you anything sweetheart?” She asked, lazily grazing deep wine acrylics against the countertop. Her copper eyes glistened almost supernaturally, reflecting the glint around them.

As an artist, he appreciated this commitment to the aesthetic; even the bartender had a melodramatic beauty about her. So much grandeur for a bar that it teetered on tacky. Not bad at all for a first, and last, date.

“I’ll have a B-52 right now but—" he paused leaning in close enough to taste the subtle sweetness of a floral perfume. “When my ‘date’ walks in slide me a Long Island before he asks, _please_?”

She chuckles at his usage of air quotes as soon as the word date leaves his lips.

“No problem sugar, I’ll open a tab for you. If I’m busy call me, I’m Amada. Or just gaze at me with those pretty eyes of yours and I’ll be right over.”

A surprisingly ordinary shot glass is placed in front of him as she grabs three bottles from under the counter and smoothly pours each liquor, quickly layering them.

It had been an hour after closing HTT with Taeil, and five since Johnny left with one of his puppies. Not that anyone was counting. But it had been an agonizingly slow closing shift at the shop and he needed to start the night off with a drink that was sweet guilty-pleasure in a glass.

She mouths, “ _good luck_ ” after sliding him the finished shot, directing her attention to a handsy pair that had just walked in and sat at the other end of the counter.

He brought the cool glass to his lips, buttery layers satisfying his sweet tooth and going down warm against his throat.

Normally, he wouldn’t be caught dead waiting on someone, especially not in the heart of Chicago on a Saturday night. Going out wasn’t a priority to him anymore, especially not when the high of his first meeting with the city wore off. It was love at first sight with the city itself and everything it represented, and that love had blossomed into companionship. Chicago was a crossroads. A meeting place where he could be in a crowd of thousands of people without being forced to connect with individuals. It gratified his need to be a part of something without actually having to risk the disappointment of a failed connection. It enabled him, made him comfortable. But even if the need to go out and drop his inhibitions ever crept up on him, Ten had already decided over a year ago, waiting at his flight gate in Bangkok, to not go out of his way to force lasting relationships here. They would’ve been a bittersweet memory, and anything less than sweet when it came to human connections he preferred to avoid. That way, he could keep everything surface level, making it easier to flash his infamous 100-watt smile and end up breathless against a wall.

He tugged at the frays on the collar of his denim jacket, a habit he refuses to acknowledge is from nerves. A DJ starts setting up their equipment on the wall to his right as amber from candelabras is dimmed and replaced by a soft red afterglow emitting from concealed light strips. Groups, couples, and loners alike stream in through the entrance, as a line starts forming outside the glass doors.

It must be eleven already. His date should be walking in any second now, probably wearing something he went to class in, and then throwing on a leather jacket as if that would take the outfit from day to night. But that didn’t matter, it wouldn’t stay on for long.

As if on cue, Ten’s phone starts buzzing against the cloth of his black skinny jeans. He admittedly hadn’t saved the familiar number—it was pointless—so he pads the green circle immediately.

“Hello?” He already knew who was on the other end, but innocence could be alluring.

“Hey! It’s Ty.” The voice was gentle, and Ten couldn’t remember a time he ever heard it rise above a whisper in class. “I’m here, at the front. Are you here?”

Ten shifts his gaze toward the entrance to see the slim figure of his date, wearing the expected leather jacket. Underneath, his classmate’s signature all black look, but tonight’s variation was a hoodie with SEXUAL FANTASIES printed across the chest paired with the staple ripped skinnies. How _appropriate_.

“Yeah, I’m all the way at the back of the right bar. I saved us some seats.” 

“Nice. See you in a sec.”

He watches how the upperclassman slides the phone into the pocket of his jacket before making his way through the crowd, scanning it for Ten. There was, honestly, no way Ten could’ve said no to his senior, especially not this one. And this time, it wasn’t because of Ty’s enchanting features, that made even the pigeons on campus stop and stare. He just found it incredibly hard to reject the first person who had made him feel comfortable in his very first class—completely new to the states—at Columbia a year ago. So, when they had ran into each other Saturday morning, and Ty had uncharacteristically asked him out in front of his dorm steps, he owed him a yes. Which made it sound as if it was a pity date, but even if it was, he’d at least be amused for a few hours.

In retrospect, that moment had to have been the one to trigger the butterfly effect he was currently experiencing. If he wouldn’t have stopped and talked with Ty, if he would’ve left earlier for work, maybe he wouldn’t have noticed the puppies, and well, the rest is history.

Ten lowers his gaze before awkward eye contact could be established, as he sees the silvery hair of his date approaching him in his peripheral.

“ _Hey_.” The enthusiasm in his voice was endearing. “You look great tonight.”

“So do you, Ty.” And he did, but compliments always felt hollow when Ten knew they both had ulterior motives.

Taeyong. Ty for short, which he made sure to specify to Ten was his preferred choice. It made sense, considering a Taeyong would immediately command a room, but the Ty in front of him prioritized turning pages over turning heads.

As soon as Ty took the open seat next to Ten, Amada appeared, and was already sliding the promised Long Island toward his restless fingers. Both bars were packed now, and one bartender had turned into three on each side, as the DJ did his best to soothe those who didn’t have a drink in hand with bright beats.

“You must be the lucky date.” She slyly comments before asking, “what can I get you?”

“Oh, just a water for me.”

She takes her leave to grab the water pitcher anyone rarely asks for as a first drink.

Ten did not submit himself to an hour on the CTA just for some tame, get to know each other date. Ty really wasn’t aware of his potential, and Ten had to get him to loosen up. He slid a hand over the others thigh as if it was second nature, before looking up at him through his eyelashes.

“Ty, you aren’t going to make me drink _alone_ right?” His index finger traced tiny circles onto the denim clinging against his classmate’s thigh. “Come on, just _one_ drink, for me?”

Delicate fingers stop the circular motion, as Ty interlocks his fingers with Ten’s. The former focuses deep onyx eyes that seem to drink in every bit of light reflected in them, onto Ten’s playful gaze.

Amada returns with the anticlimactic order only for the silver haired customer to shyly ask for a Jim Beam on the rocks. She pours it out in front of them, and leaves the ice water under Ten’s insistence. They’ll need it later.

Sometimes, it’s just way too easy.

They sit and talk among the pulsating bass, ignoring bodies bumping and squirming around them. Leaning into each other, Ty wants to know everything about Ten. He asks about Thailand, about his art, about how he feels about the city, and most importantly, when he was leaving. Ten happily answers all of his questions and asks questions of his own, making sure to keep them surface level and impersonal.

Ty orders them a second round as soon as his glass empties, but Ten paces himself, sipping his own drink in between smiles becoming more intimate and darkening gazes. He doesn’t touch the second Long Island as he watches how Ty blossoms in front of him, confidently telling him more and more about himself and predictably noticing scuffs in his senior’s gentle façade.

A rosy tint blooms onto the cheeks of his date after he downs the second glass of bourbon like a shot. Then he watches how the silver haired student signals for the bartender to bring him a third glass.

But as soon as Ty wraps overeager fingers around the glass, Ten stops him. He tenderly places a hand on the senior’s striking jawline, making sure to place his thumb just under delicate lips, gently parting them.

The cool touch of the obsidian ring on Ten’s thumb sends visible shivers down Ty’s spine.

“Are you sure you want to drink that?” He asks, hand still against overheated skin.

“No, but I am sure of one thing I _do_ want to do.”

Taeyong pauses to lean in dangerously close to Ten, their noses almost touching when he slides his lips around Ten’s thumb and sucks gently.

He parts his lips again, freeing Ten’s thumb with a soft pop. “Yo—”

“Lead the way.” Ten interrupts the end of the cringey line. The less words spoken between them now, the better.

Ty signals a bartender for the tab, but Ten makes sure to switch the card that his date placed on the counter with his own. The act goes unnoticed, his hands and mind already preoccupied under Ten’s jacket, pulling at the tucked in orange tee. They wait a few moments more for the receipt before Ten swiftly returns Ty’s unused card and secretly slides his own into his jacket pocket.

Ty peels himself away from Ten, leading him to the bathrooms so _conveniently_ close.

As soon as they hit the concealed hallway, Ten feels the refreshing chill of the wall against the exposed skin of his lower back. His tee now untucked and jacket riding up due to Ty’s warm fingertips trailing the length of his back.

God, _finally_.

Ty’s lips are already leaving behind soft violet marks on his neck, working his way slowly up to Ten’s jawline. They’re soft and languid and feel exactly like rose petals being grazed against skin.

But Ten doesn’t have time for romance.

He impatiently tugs at silvery strands, forcing the others lips up to his own, kissing him deeply as their bodies fall into a natural rhythm of action and reaction. The taste of leftover bourbon candied into a toasted caramel between their parted lips, leaving Ten breathless as the surge of warmth hit him in waves. He knotted his fists in Ty’s hoodie, pulling him closer as their hips rolled together, as one hand on his back slipped in his briefs and the other freed itself to drag his mouth away. Ty bends Ten’s overeager head back, giving them a moments respite before looking at him with once lustrous eyes now opaque and half-lidded. But the sight of Ten so powerless, and lips glistening in dim lighting softens his gaze.

And for a split second, Ty’s face turns to Johnny’s.

His eyes shift as he pants a breathless “ _what the fuck,”_ before desperately pulling Ty’s lips back to his own in an attempt to wipe the memory of some dumb specter.

But whatever lust was there, is already gone. All it took was one soft look for the memory of that idiot to ruin his fun.

And now he can’t even close his eyes without seeing that _stupid_ smile and it making his skin crawl. Fuck. The chances of him bailing before they got to a bedroom just skyrocketed to one hundred percent. But since avoidance tactics are his specialty, he has a backup plan.

“Hey” He says breathlessly, pulling back and burying his face into the nape of the senior’s neck. “Foreplay’s been fun, but let’s get out of here.”

“I thought you’d never ask.” He said, removing his wandering hands from their places. Whatever softness that was leftover in Ty’s eyes, was long gone.

And, technically, it wasn’t a question. But hanging onto technicalities was a bad habit.

He wove his fingers into Ten’s, pulling him away from the wall and the emergency exit.

“Wait.” Ten tugged at the hand in his. “I need to use the bathroom right quick. Get me another drink before we go? Please?”

And, of course, Ty didn’t hesitate to trust him. He gives a small nod and Ten almost felt bad about the triumphant smile that was pulling at the corners of his date’s mouth as he disappeared from the hallway and back toward the bar.

It wasn’t a lie though. He really did have to use the bathroom.

The men’s room door was to his left, and the emergency exit to his right. If he used the bathroom he risked Ty coming back and then he’d be forced to say some stupid excuse to get out the rest of the night, ending with the worst outcome: seeing disappointment cloud such a pretty face. Or he could just leave.

He should’ve just said no twelve hours earlier. Now he’s going to be forever be branded the asshole who ditched a good guy.

But choices were choices, and Ten wasn’t going to be in Chicago forever. Whatever relationship they could’ve had was just going to end in disappointment either way. Especially since he couldn’t get the image of a certain annoyingly tall customer’s smile out of his head.

It was easier this way.

So, he silently breaks into the midnight air, with only nameless patrons as witness.

But as Ty reaches the bar and realizes what the untouched Long Island still left over from minutes ago meant, another familiar figure leaning against the wall smiled incredulously at the fate of Ten’s date.

 

* * *

 

Monday morning, everything’s back to normal. He always had Sunday’s off from HTT so he gladly used it to recover from Saturday night.

It should have been a relaxing Sunday. A day where he finishes (or starts) homework due, and calls his parents, or goes out onto his balcony and draws whatever comes to mind. But every time he went out to feel the breeze from lake Michigan and put pencil to paper, he saw the same pair of eyes that had ruined his night.

It was easier to blame someone else than himself after all.

So instead of being productive he binged fucked up criminal dramas with enough traumatizing content in them to drown out the soft, and _very_ annoying musings of his heart.

They were never going to see each other again, and all he had was a name. And eventually, it was all going to fade away, just as every other stranger did who his heart fell for, but his mind didn’t. And no stranger was worth wasting a semester on, just for them to end up at the top of his list of disillusionments and plague his memories of the city.

_Johnny’s different._

No the hell he’s not. How could he possibly know that?

_He’s refreshing. And no one’s ever looked at you like that before._

Johnny probably looks at food the same way.

_He seemed close with Taeil, you could always just ask…_

And risk Taeil bringing it up to the megalomaniac himself? Please.

All he had to do was talk his heart out if it, reminding himself about the reality of who he was, where he was, and how people were.

And 24 hours later, here he was, behind the register of HTT once again, after a day and a half wasted of trying to wipe that goofy smile from his mind’s eye to no avail. A smile that persisted even after he blatantly said no at this very counter.

He adjusted the knot on the back of his apron, with less than a minute left until it was time to open the shop for the day. The kitty cuckoo clock above the empty register next to his meowed 9 times, and Taeil let out a distressed _it’s nine already?_ from the back warehouse, voice crackling in his in-ear receiver from the lack of signal.

Everything really was right where it should be. He was back at his register before, instead of after classes, and Taeil was running around stressed, checking if the closing staff did everything they should’ve. Fate didn’t throw any random wrenches into his routine today. The weirdest thing about today was the stifling heat persisting despite the fact midterms were only a couple weeks away.

Until the first customer of the day walked in.

“I KNEW IT!”

Ten flinches at the sound of the voice he never wanted to hear again. He reluctantly turns toward the unnecessary noise at nine a.m. and Johnny’s standing at the entrance, pointing right at him.

He would have laughed at how ridiculous the other looked, if he didn’t want him _gone_.

“What? You aren’t happy to see me? I’m a loyal customer!” He laughs at his own ridiculousness; he must think it’s _cute_ , so he continues rambling as he makes his way over to Ten’s register.  “Ask Taeil, I stop by almost every day after class. Which explains why Saturday was the first time I saw you here. Honestly, I would’ve scheduled classes in the afternoon if it meant seeing you in the mornings.”

A blank stare is all he gets in return.

“What? A med major needs a place to come and relax and play with puppies!”

When he reaches the counter he leans—which for a guy his height is more of a sit—on top of it, and starts to fumble with the novelty keychains Taeil had just put out this morning.

“Oh, don’t worry I won’t ask you out again.” He lets his head lazily hang back, to focus his gaze on Ten, anticipating an enjoyable reaction. “I don’t want to end up like that one guy with the white hair.”

He wasn’t even going to ask how he knew. Because Paradox was a popular bar. And it was a Saturday night. Of course he was there. Students as far out as Northwestern made it a habit to go there, but after his anticlimactic night, Ten was never going back. And especially not if Johnny spent his weekends there. 

“What are you even _talking_ about?”

The smug look on Johnny’s face confirmed he had just fallen for the idiot’s bait.

“I was there, at Paradox the other night. I noticed those eyes from a mile away, and I saw it all.” He shrugged. Bored with fidgeting, his undivided attention was directed at the pretty student across the counter from him. “It was pretty slick honestly, but I did feel bad for the guy.”

“ _Wow_ , so you’re admitting resorting to stalking, because I rejected you a couple days ago?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, because one, I knew you weren’t going to say yes. And two, you may be beautiful, but I know there’s something dangerous behind those eyes. I saw it yesterday and I’ll see it again.”

“You’re insane.”

Johnny shrugs again, glancing at the clock.

“Love does do that to you. Trust me. I’m in the medical field, I should know.” He trails a finger along the length of Ten’s register before rising and cutting their conversation short.

Ten watches as he heads for the automatic glass doors, but he stops in the middle as they slide open. He looks back, uneven bangs falling in front of his eyes.

“Same time tomorrow?” He asks, before flashing that annoyingly goofy smile.

But he walks out before Ten could even decide to answer, before Ten could tell the med student he’s off on Tuesdays.


	3. stretching canvas

He hated liars.

Which, by default meant he should hate himself. But that was a given, and beside the point.

The point, was that he ignored every practical bone in his body just to make sure Johnny hadn’t shown up today.

And he hadn’t.

Tuesday at nine a.m., same time, same place, with only Taeil’s confused expression staring back at him as soon as he walked through the glass doors. Ten wasn’t in the mood to explain, especially when he wasn’t even sure why he hadn’t managed to talk himself out of doing this extremely childish thing.

Pushing all self-deprecating thoughts aside, he spent a grand total of thirty seconds standing on HTT’s black and white, paw print patterned welcome rug. It was enough time to scan the store for a mess of brunet hair that might have been peeking from the top of their shelves, and enough to see his manager start forming words, but not enough to hear him finish the certain _“Ten? You aren’t scheduled today_.” As soon as thirty seconds were up, he swiveled on his docs and left, hurriedly giving Taeil at the registers an awkward half nod as acknowledgement. He knew his manager (thankfully) wouldn’t mention his unexplained appearance tomorrow, or any other day, due to puppies, kittens and massive store data clogging his brain.

So, he was safe from being reminded of this rare moment of weakness where his heart had won over practicality, just to see if Johnny really was going to make it a habit to see him at the shop each day.

But words didn’t evolve into actions, and no amount of “ _maybe he’s going to come a little later_ ” or “ _he probably found out you don’t work every day_ ” rationalizations were going to have him looking this foolish again.

A day without Johnny popping into HTT for some “release” turned into a week, and a week turned into two. Two weeks of Taeil not saying absolutely anything about their missing regular. Which was good, _great_ actually. The less he saw the illusive student the better. And the easier it was for Ten to repress his uncalled for infatuation, that literally developed from nothing.

Because a gaze, was nothing.

 

* * *

 

The first frost of the season had quietly spread throughout the city, icy fingers leaving crystals on everything in their wake. Heat waves radiating from sticky asphalt had finally dissipated and he was convinced the cloud that left his lips was steam being released from the pressure of a melting brain. Midterm season was truly a suffocating hell, and universities everywhere compensated the fact students were boiling in their own misery by scheduling them in the middle of a cooling October.

He had just left the office of an overworked grad student who was supposed to be his mentor for his entire stay in Chicago, but every mandatory quarterly meeting ended up being a short exchange of praise on how well Ten was adapting to the “ _culture_ ” and “ _American higher education system_.” So, he chose to smile and nod, never issuing a correcting " _I_ _went to an International school for high school this isn’t that bad_ ” just for the sake of keeping his mentor’s ego intact.

The only thing different about today’s meeting had been a reminder spoken to him as an afterthought; there was an international program event tonight and his mentor wanted him there. Something about interacting with potential exchange students interested in going to Thailand. Which, he already knew about, but hadn’t planned on going, until he was standing on the sidewalk outside of the faculty building and he realized he hadn’t gone to a single event hosted by his program this year. So, he had to go. He’d feel bad if he didn’t.

But, currently, he looked like shit, and he only had six hours to make it back to his dorm, upload one of his illustrations for the last midterm of the season, take a much needed nap, and change out of the raggedy black sweatsuit he pulled out especially for every horrible October since he started college. Next year he was going to upgrade to a velour one, custom made to spend senior year’s inescapable madness in luxury—even if he’d be back in Thailand’s heat.

As he turned the corner of the neo-gothic faculty building en route to the closest Starbucks, a mass of overdressed twenty-somethings blocked the sidewalk. Walking closer to the buzzing horde he noticed they all had lanyards of varying colors with placards at the ends hung from their necks, printed with names and university logos he couldn’t distinguish.

Until he recognized one head towering above the rest, wearing the usual circle rim glasses, with bangs that were now overgrown and parted in the middle framing a heart-shaped face.

He was set apart from the crowd of ordinary students, wearing a marbled grey overcoat that exposed a baby blue dress shirt tucked into a simple belt and perfectly tailored black slacks. Down to the matching suede chelsea boots, this Johnny, engaging in what seemed to be an interesting discussion with a raven haired girl, caused the quieting whispers of his heart to become confident in their discourse once again. And this time they weren’t going to be as easy to ignore.

He had been so close.

So close to the memory of a certain umber eyed student with infuriating nonchalance fading from awareness. Why couldn’t Johnny appear when he needed him to? Why couldn’t he have been there two weeks ago when Ten made a half-hearted attempt to meet him halfway? Fate should have kept this in a controlled setting, in HTT, where Ten was comfortable, where Johnny wasn’t trespassing on campus. _His_ campus.

And now Ten had to take an unexpected detour. Because he looked like shit. And there was absolutely no way their third meeting was going to be with Johnny looking like…that. Risking an awkward encounter where there was no guarantee of acknowledgment was giving way too much power to his least favorite megalomaniac.

But, as he turned back around to take the long way back to his dorm—with the churning in his stomach telling him to skip the Starbucks—he realized why Johnny was at Columbia.

There was a discussion panel at The Conaway Center tonight. A joint production between Columbia and U of Chicago over _Art and Medicine: A Marriage Between Abstractions and Absolutes_. And they had invited med and art majors alike from schools all over the Chicago area.

Which meant, he could find out which school Johnny went to, if he could get a glance at his placard. But him? Going out of his way for someone he didn’t even _know_? Never that. He was too old to keep wasting his time on a stranger who carelessly spoke.

But a quick glance wouldn't take long.

Damn it.

If he took that quick glance, if he peeked out from the corner of the building he was currently pressed up against like an eavesdropping cartoon, what would that do?

Well for one, he’d know how far Johnny was from him at all times. This seemingly negligible piece of information could just reinforce that it would never work out. Right? Because the farther the campus, the less he would have to worry about another unwarranted meeting. And the more he could convince himself about the irrationality of it all.

He’d be quick.

Bringing his head around, fingers now against the limestone façade, he squinted toward the gathering that hadn’t moved an inch. Luckily, fate was on his side for once, because Johnny’s conversation had stopped, and the student was now facing in Ten’s direction, several feet closer than before and scrolling through his phone, separated from the rest. He could just make out the bold type printed _John Suh_ in the middle, with a shield and University of Chicago in characteristic maroon off to a corner.

That wasn’t so hard.

He pulled back out of sight—mission accomplished—pushing the new found information to the back of his mind until he made it back to his dorm. But the buzzing of the student group was getting louder, and he had to get out of there before the worst happened. He could relish in the self-gratification later, because for now, he really needed to get back to reality and out of these sweats.

 

 

Six hours, a nap and an outfit change later, Ten was face to face with a banner plastered on the window, jeeringly printed DISCUSSION PANEL @ 6:30 PM. Fate had been kind earlier, only to throw this so blatantly in his face.

Who would’ve guessed Johnny’s event was in the same building? He didn’t think fate would be so cruel. And at the same exact time too? What a joke. An extremely not funny cliché of a joke.

He checked the e-flyer the department had sent before accepting this defeat and pulling the steel handle. At least his event was far, far above on the sixth floor.

He could make it the few seconds it took to get inside, without peeking at the first floor—made up mostly of the open space Conaway Center—and safely to the stairs.

In and out.

But he couldn’t resist, and full-length glass doors separating the small entrance lobby and the rest of the space only enabled him. Because if this was going to be the last time he saw Johnny, he wanted today’s Johnny to be the one that occasionally faded in and out of his memory, as just another ghost of irrational infatuation past.

Rethinking going up six flights of stairs to avoid one guy, he quickly pushed the elevator button after noticing it was on the top floor, which would give him ample amount of time to scan the open space. As soon the button shone a neon orange he walked over to the glass separation to his right, fingers grasping at the thin frames separating window from doors and shamelessly gazed into the space where the faint murmurs of mingling students could be heard. There were hundreds of bleached white chairs separated into five sections, but they were only half full, as the rest of the students were either grouped together standing in comfortable cliques—in what he assumed was by school—or they still hadn’t arrived. But he couldn’t see the familiar head above the rest, anywhere.

He heard the main doors swing open behind him and he reflexively stiffened, stepping back from the glass immediately, hoping it wasn’t Johnny. But the group of forgettable faces passed him without a word.

 _Ding_.

Time was up, and Johnny was nowhere in sight. It was for the best, really.

Chrome doors slid open to reveal himself gazing into exhausted eyes. He almost didn’t recognize the person reflected at him through the mirrors that made up the perimeter of the lift. And for the first time this midterm season, he realized he’d been droning about on campus, dead-eyed and on autopilot.

He walked in, grasping at the metal bar splitting his image in half before leaning close enough for his nose to kiss the immaculate surface. The lift doors closed behind him. All he had on today were the usual black skinnies, with a printed black tee under an olive bomber. It wasn’t much, but he carried it well enough. This was the best he had looked in two weeks, even though it still wasn’t up to standard.

The standard, was effortlessly pulling pieces from his closest that came together into an outfit even the fashion design majors prodded him about. The standard was becoming so used to styling his hair according to the feeling his clothing gave off that building his appearance in the morning was as fine-tuned as an assembly line. The standard was to create a Ten who looked good enough to intimidate; but a wear a smile that pulled even the shyest classmate or customer (and look damn good even in a black apron covered in shedded fur). He enjoyed it. The perfect way to pull people in just enough for them to satisfy him, but keep them far enough so their motives wouldn’t taint the surface. He always controlled the fate of his relationships, and it all started with how he looked. It was a secret game he played over and over, and in turn the game protected him.

Maybe it wasn’t so much a game, as it was a distraction.

He cocked his head to watch the silver of small hoops glint under harsh fluorescent lights covering the ceiling.

In his defense, today was the last day of midterms, so of course he hadn’t fully recovered yet. At least this event would be a way to easy himself back into surface interacting and keep him amused for an hour.

He turned to face the doors, only to realize he’d been so engrossed in his self-reflection to realize the lift wasn’t moving. Pressing the metal circle labeled six, he ran ring clad fingers through damp bangs, the fresh scent breaking through the stuffy air of an enclosed space. It was going to be a long night.

Or not.

As soon as he made it off the lift and through the double wood doors of room 603 he knew he wasn’t staying. Especially not when wide eyed underclassman kept looking at him like he was some rare species.

An over enthusiastic brunette with brown eyes speckled with jade recognized him and waved him over to the Thai exchange program table. Ten didn’t recognize her, but he figured she must be a new mentor, because none of the seasoned ones walked around with a smile that reached their eyes. It was refreshing, but exhausting to say the least. Especially when she took a freckled hand and coaxed him to put his number down in a paced accent he’d never heard before. The easiest route was to follow her lead, because he could always return and erase it later—even though he knows he won’t. So he scribbled the numbers down with a smile, and gladly plastered a name tag she handed him to his chest. It wasn’t a good idea, considering he hated giving out his number in any context, and two, didn’t want to give the program any indication that he should be considered as a mentor if he ever came back to Chicago.

But whatever.

He ended up greeting a few former classmates before glancing back at the Thai program table, and, noticing there weren’t any prospective students there, took the opportunity to leave. But he did swipe a couple (or a plateful) of cookies to take back his dorm—the only reason any college events like this were worth the effort.

Leaning his back once again against lift mirrors as he waited for the short ride down, he absentmindedly nibbled at a double chocolate chunk cookie—rich and a guilty pleasure—just how he liked them.

It was a pity, honestly, that he chose to sacrifice depth for instant gratification. But he had to be doing something right, because he had made it this far with minor disappointment.

The few minutes he had spent exposed to those fresh faces was too much of a reality check for it to have been the distraction he needed. He’d have to default to texting back a random unsaved number from his unread messages and hope for the best. The best being the number belonging to a classmate that was attractive and didn’t bore him with predictability in the first five minutes.

He placed the half eaten cookie back in the plate haphazardly wrapped in cheap paper towel before brushing off crumbs from a satin sleeve. The screen now glaring back at him told him it had only been thirty minutes, which meant Johnny had to definitely be seated on the first floor and that most classes were over for the day, so he really should pick his lucky winner. He opened his messages and scrolled, letting a second past before landing on one from the beginning of the semester that read _I should take you out some time_.

But the lift groaned to a halt, and as the doors opened, looking for a distraction became the least of his worries.

There he was, the current fixation he loved to ignore, in all of his millennial GQ reader glory.

_No fucking way._

Was fate trying to tell him something? Because he really wasn’t trying to hear it.

Ten couldn’t help but notice the way his stomach instantly knotted at how well the dress shirt clung at the other’s chest, the way his overcoat emphasized the length of his legs and new hairstyle accentuated prominent cheekbones which were still flushed from the bite of frosty wind.

The only way a spectator would’ve noticed Ten’s shock, would be the whites of his knuckles showing through taut skin clutching at his phone, nails digging into the soft plastic of his case, while the other hand clutched at the flimsy paper plate. He hadn’t moved an inch toward the open doors in front of him.

It takes a distracted Johnny, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he also reads his phone, another beat to realize the lift in front of him reached the ground, and look up right into the unreadable gaze of his favorite puppy savior.

“Hey, stranger.” Instantly, a smile breaks onto impossibly natural rosy lips. “I don’t know about you, but fate’s flirting with one of us and I _one hundred percent_ hope it’s me.”

Blindsided was a gross understatement. Ten was convinced he was in the clear. He was supposed to be. Johnny was _supposed_ _to be_ sitting obliviously listening to the monotonous drone of a medical professional, and not in front of him.

Johnny moves first, filling the gap left by open elevator doors and propping a forearm against them as he studied the shorter student in front of him.

“Do I have something on my face?” He lifted a hand up to a plump bottom lip, tracing their lower curve as his smile grew wider. Watching Ten watch him was a pleasure in itself.

“People are waiting.” Ten blinks, unamused. But he takes his time trailing his gaze up to familiar playful eyes.

They’re both aware of one nosy girl darting her eyes between them, waiting in the lobby.

“Let them wait, patience is a virtue.” Johnny counters back, loud enough to make the innocent bystander flinch, as he suddenly joins Ten in the enclosed space and presses a finger on the close door button.

Johnny audibly sucks his teeth before drawing out a fake apology toward the girl . “ _Sorry_ , I can’t let you in.” His tone changes to an obnoxiously staged whisper. “ _He doesn’t perform well in threes_.”

Ten watched as the broad shoulders in front of him shrugged, and the poor girl’s complexion turned a bright crimson hue. The doors couldn’t close any slower, and Johnny couldn’t shut up any sooner.

“But don’t worry. We’re working on it.” He added, using the last seconds before the door trapped them together forever—or what was going to seem like forever if Ten didn’t figure out an escape route. Johnny undoubtedly had an expression of self-content plastered on his face, but (fortunately) it was lost to Ten who was forced to stare at such an irritating back.

Ten turned to face the mirrors, trying to figure out why he didn’t slip out when he had the chance. But he knew why. And if Johnny wasn’t going to face him, neither was he.

Johnny hovered a finger over the panel. Ten was all too aware that the visiting student was capable of pressing every button. But, he decided on the eighth floor—the top floor, known for its cozy theater and occasional lecture hall. Which Johnny couldn’t have known about. But, they weren’t going to make it that far. Ten wasn’t going to give Johnny the satisfaction of more privacy. The lift was already stuffy enough.

“So.” Johnny turned to meet Ten’s reflected eyes at the first ding of the lift. “Do you like my hair?”

Ten scoffs, before breaking eye contact to slide his phone into his back pocket.

“ _Come on._ ” Johnny stepped forward to stand next to Ten. He looked down at the top of the indifferent student’s head who was stubbornly keeping his gaze straight ahead. “You have to give me more than that, I’ve been gone for two weeks. I know you missed me.”

If Johnny meant for his words to evoke some sense of sympathy, they had missed their mark. They felt impatient coming from someone so shamelessly audacious.

“How can I miss someone who doesn’t go away?”

His response had been the wrong one, considering the satisfied grin hanging from the med student’s face.

Johnny nodded toward the paper plate. “Can I have some?”

The question was offensive enough to warrant a look of contempt from Ten, and eye contact, even if it was indirectly through a mirror.

“Stop talking to me.”

“I’ll take that as a _no._ ” Johnny sighs, relishing being the object of Ten’s attention, even if it was negative. He turns to face the doors once again, but leans against the bar splitting the mirrors, letting the back of his head touch cool glass. “So how’d we miraculously end up in the same place without me trying?”

A second ding accented the end of Johnny’s question. They had already been alone for two floors, and Ten still hadn’t attempted to smash the next floor’s button as a way out. But, in his defense, it _had_ been two long weeks and he’d be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been grasping at the fading memory of that smile. Even after actively trying to repress it.

He shouldn’t play along. It would only make it harder to get out before the eighth floor. But he’d been looking for a distraction right? And this way, he could give his aggravating infatuation some gratification before the inevitable point of boredom. So, why not? Because he wasn’t going to make it easy for Johnny either.

“I go here. Unlike you.” Ten goes to grab the unfinished cookie before taking a bite and turning to face Johnny, looking up at him to gift him with direct eye contact.

The change in body language only made Johnny’s grin that much more smug. The one thing he _didn’t_ miss.

“Someone’s been paying attention.” The brunet glanced down at the lanyard around his neck, as if he had forgotten it was there in the first place. “See, showing a little interest isn’t that hard.”

Johnny’s ability to keep that infamous grin on his face for prolonged periods of time, was inhuman. And Ten’s urge to wipe it off his face only grew with each passing second.

The sound of chewing resonated against his skull, playing against the silence that settled between them as Ten took his time savoring chocolate. He watched as Johnny’s warm gaze followed the length of his neck as he swallowed.

 _Ding_. Five floors left.

“How do you do that?”

“Do what?” Johnny’s eyes snapped back to meet Ten’s. The glint in them was unmistakable.

“Talk to me like you still have a chance.”

As soon as the last word left his lips, Johnny wrapped his hands around the metal bar underneath Ten’s elbows, on each side, caging him in. The only thing stopping Johnny from closing the remaining space between them was one flimsy paper plate in danger of getting ripped in half by Ten’s grip.

“Oh. That.” He laughs, literally in Ten’s face, as if the answer is obvious. “Because I never thought I had a chance in the first place.”

And this time, the expected crisp, clean scent of a still freshly pressed shirt mixing with a lingering woodsy cologne was there, creating a dizzying effect. Or Ten could  just rationalize his rapid heart-beat and mild vertigo were the symptoms of a sudden onset of acrophobia he’s never had before. Because _of course_ it wasn’t the fact that stuck between mirrors and Johnny was the last fucking place he wanted to be.

 _Ding._ Four.

Honestly, making it up to the top floor didn’t seem like the worst case scenario anymore. _This_ was worse. But he had to take control again.

He sighs, taking a deeper breath than necessary to hide the fact Johnny had any effect on him. The brunet searches the smaller student’s face, but it hasn’t changed, except for the way Ten’s eyes look softer, bigger—innocent almost—as they look up at him.

Ten tilts his head higher, lids narrowing as he juts his chin out to graze his nose against the tip of Johnny’s chin. The unexpected contact leaves one self-assured student at a loss and wide-eyed, reflexively letting go of metal while the other gets the opening he needed.

Touch was all it took.

“You’re jumpier than you look.” Ten noted as he slipped from between the other’s relaxed arms, smiling widely with his tongue in between his teeth. But it didn’t reach his eyes.

“And you’re a lot more manipulative than you look.”

“What can I say?” He shrugged, moving to the space in front of the button panel. “You weren’t wrong when you said I was dangerous.”

 _Ding._ Three.

It was now or never. He could easily get off on the sixth floor and fly down six flight of stairs to safety. Without Johnny, without any explanations and continue on with his life.

But there was one explanation he wanted— _needed—_ especially after his rare display of interest at HTT that went unnoticed.

“Just for the record, next time you decide to go after your next fixation, don’t lie to them.” He gives one last look back to Johnny. “I _hate_ liars.”

“If I were you, this is where you’d say, ‘ _I_ _don’t owe you explanations_ ’ because ‘ _we don’t know each other,'_ but it’s a great thing I’m me, isn’t it?” Johnny follows him, a tall shadow leaning down to murmur into his ear. “Something came up. Sorry if you were expecting me.”

 _Ding._ The lift groans to a halt.

Ten looks up into a face reflecting rare, authentic sincerity.

“Expecting you?” He sucks his teeth as he looks away quickly, hoping the doors slid open sooner rather than later. He wasn’t used to such an unguarded response. “Never that,” is mumbled as an afterthought.

They both watch as the door opens, and Ten stiffens as he steps in front of the door in anticipation of potential passengers. Instead, there’s only a quiet hallway with the huge overkill of a signboard directing prospective exchange students to room 603.

That Ten had completely forgotten about, and that Johnny no doubt just read.

He tears off his name tag as he walks (read: runs) out of the lift, escaping the expression of confusion that melted into realization painted on Johnny’s face. He should’ve ripped off the name tag as soon as Johnny stepped into the elevators. The name tag, that was harmless on its own with it’s neat markered cursive that simply read _Ten-Current Thai Ex._ and the acronym of the program squished into a corner, was all too revealing paired with the signboard. He needed to put distance between him and Johnny, fast.

Ten flinches as the empty hallway amplifies a voice calling to him from the lift.

“You’re leaving?!” Johnny’s standing in the threshold of the lift doors, forcing it to stall its course upward. He wasn’t yelling, but it fills the hallway just the same. “And no one told me?”

His rushed strides slow to a walk, thinking of a way not to add to the drama of the moment he was currently living. But he can’t resist a response.

“I don’t even _know_ you.” He throws the words back as he twists his neck toward the source of his displeasure.

“But  _I_ want to know _you._ ”

God knows six words weren’t going to have him falling into Johnny’s arms, but they were enough to stop him. Not because they were endearing, or heart wrenching (gross), but instead this was the first time they sounded sincere coming from _anyone_. Maybe the prolonged exposure to that devastating smile had him hearing warped intentions, but today, he didn’t care. Always running away is no fun, especially when he hadn’t played hard enough.

He turns to face a Johnny who’s smirk was almost gone. It was insecure on those rosy lips, weakened by the uncertainty of what Ten was going to do next.

“Those two weeks you were doing whatever, must’ve been really hard for you, huh?” The playful sarcasm in his tone echoed along with the steps he was taking back toward the elevator.

“More than you know.” Johnny runs a hand through his bangs, taking off his glasses in the process. He sighs for the second time that night, lowering his gaze and speaking quieter now that Ten wasn’t running away from him. “Damn, you’re really leaving. This changes things.”

This was the first time he’d seen Johnny without glasses. He looked a lot more tired, and less...John Suh. Ten’s tempted to ask what exactly does this information change, but he bites back his curiosity, careful now that he’s in front of Johnny again, dangerously close.

Ten gets on the tip of his toes, to be eye level as he pokes his index finger into Johnny’s chest.

“Bye.” Instead of it being confident closure to the ride he had been forced on, it came out like an uncharacteristically breathy whisper.

But Johnny wasn’t going to let him leave just yet. He gently tugs at the zipper of Ten’s bomber, keeping him in place as he falls back to regular height and leaning in enough for their noses to kiss.

“This just means I have less time for you to fall in love with me.”

“In your dreams,” without missing a beat, Ten flicks at the placard hanging from the med major’s neck, “John Suh.”

“I must be dreaming then.” Johnny pokes at Ten’s chest, making him step back from the threshold they were occupying. He steps back into the lift, reaching out to press a button. As the door closes, he raises a hand up to a smirk that gained its confidence once again. “Because it’s already working.”

Ten subconsciously mirrors the gesture when Johnny's out of sight, only to discover his face had betrayed him. He was smiling.


	4. interlude i. the physician

Johnny needed to work on impulse control.

Paradise was in reach—exactly 33 minutes away by CTA—and instead of working on a plan to live it every day, he was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands, red faced.

He could admit it. He might be coming on too strong. He might be…what did Ten call it?

 _Fixated_.

But this was the most fun he’d had in months.

His smug overconfidence crumbled as soon as he was alone, turning into giddy delight at the memories of how deliciously fun it was to be with Ten. And the moment he sensed the innocent interest wasn’t one-sided? The moment Ten finally showed signs of enjoying his presence?

 _Ugh_. His heart was going to burst.

He pushed himself off the desk, a little too aggressively, leaving his chair teetering.

He needed to pace. But slowly—he was still half-awake.

_‘This just means I have less time for you to fall in love with me.’_

The spoken line echoed back to him, in retrospect sounding a lot more embarrassing than in the mirrored lift, where he should’ve kept his end game a secret. But Ten’s reaction had been more than worth it, and the sudden knowledge that Ten wasn’t going to be in his city forever was jarring, even for Johnny.

Two and a half months was all the time he— _they_ —had left. It would whittle down to less than that considering finals, and an annoyingly hectic study schedule due to his imminent graduation next semester.

If he could just focus, and find his phone, maybe he could figure out a way to see Ten soon. He slowly ran a hand through his bedhead, using the other to rub the sleep from his eyes.

The abandoned hotel turned apartment building he lived in off-campus, had shitty natural lighting most of the day, with only one huge two pane window for the whole studio. Which would be _nice_ natural lighting if he wasn’t surrounded by a forest of cement and bricks blocking the sun. The one window was framed by two trees, that caused him to wake up hours before he needed to. And today his _lovely_ windy city had woken him up at nine a.m, as if the eight a.m.’s he had the rest of the week weren’t torturous enough.

Sickly green numbers glared at him from their cheap plastic casing, a block alarm clock bought for quarters, his vision blurring from their harsh glow.

 _Heads to Tails_ opened at nine.

Johnny slapped his cheeks to clear mental fog and left over crimson, throwing the covers off his bed to find the piece of aluminum that had eluded him moments ago.

HTT was the answer—always.

His thumb hovered over the contact name for a second, considering the chances whatever he was planning would work. At least with Taeil involved, those chances went from zero to one.

Two rings were all it took for Taeil to pick up, the store greeting sounding artificially sweet as Johnny made his way back to his desk.

“Good morning! This is Heads to Tails, for all of your furry needs!”

“Taeil…you really need to change that.”

“Johnny? Hi! How—”

A loud thud echoes from the other side of the line as Taeil’s voice fades from hearing.

Taeil was a clumsy as ever. Johnny was lucky he caught him early, hopefully with no store employees close enough to accidentally overhear. If it had been any other time, the fumbling manager would be tripping over words, rambling on about whatever chaos was going on at the store.

“Sorry, were you saying something?”

Johnny tapped the volume button lower as the clinking of dry food against metal flooded the receiver. The last thing he wanted was for the ball of fur snoozing in a haphazard pile of blankets on the other side of the room, to wake up at the sound of food he’d forgotten to restock last night.

Lowering his voice after taking a quick glance at the puppy (he wasn’t qualified to take care of but couldn’t resist), he swiveled back to face his desk to pick up the first pen in sight. “…nothing important. Are you busy? I can call back.”

“I always have time for you. What’s up?”

“I need a favor.”

Johnny absentmindedly chews on the pen, anticipating Taeil’s response.

_Paper. I need paper._

“Uh oh. Should I brace myself for the worst?”

He smiles, putting the pen down to let go of his phone, as he raises a shoulder to support it. He needed both hands to search through a pile of abandoned medical ethics notes for a battered notebook.

“Just a house call, for Oliver.”

“ _That’s it_?”

“That’s it.” Bent plastic pricked his finger before he saw the cover, letting notes he couldn’t remember what semester they were from, slide off. “But I need Ten.”

 “Jesus Christ, Johnny.” The background noise from before had faded, and Taeil’s voice turned serious. Which was rare, for him. “It’s been weeks. And Ten isn’t exactly your type.”

Weeks. It _had_ been weeks.

Two weeks where he spiraled back into the perpetual boredom that had plagued the last four years of his life.

Boredom that had festered from his indifference to maintain a social life with left-over friendships from high school that were, admittedly, superficial. Their families were friends, they grew up together in picket fence suburbia, they did privileged upper-middle class kid shit together, rinse and repeat. Until they all hit college, where nothing changed. Except for him. Because his parents supported him twelve academic years until they cut him off and told him to grow up. The bubble he’d been living in all his life had popped, and he started waking up tense, with the weight of a future he realized wasn’t as secure as he thought. Baby’s first steps out of his privileged socio-economic bubble. And suddenly everything else was secondary. He had to drop the dead weight. The last thing he wanted, was to turn into  _that_ rich kid who wallowed in a pity party for four years, hanging on to over-priced frames but didn’t even try to afford breakfast; or hang onto friends who acted as if change couldn’t touch them and everyone else was far, far below.

“When did you get so snappy? Where did the ‘I always have time for you’ Taeil go? Put him back on, I like him.”

He shook his head to dispel old memories and flipped to a blank page, picking up the pen once again. It had been a while since he was enamored enough to put this much effort into something. Something that wasn’t school, or the puppies of HTT.

“He’s here for reasonable requests.” Taeil states it matter-of-factly, because apparently it’s obvious Johnny is irrational. “Besides, your reputation precedes you.”

Johnny couldn’t help but snicker loudly at the dramatic whisper Taeil’s voice had dropped to.

“Reputation? You know better than anyone I don’t have a reputation.” He might, though. His former friends were still tied to him whether he liked it or not, by familial association. They still went out without him, leaving a trail of shitty rumors that turned into collegiate myth.

The other line was quiet, making the only sound in Johnny’s apartment Oliver moving his blankets around. He’ll be awake soon.

“I can feel you judging me and I don’t care. You don’t even hang out anywhere near campus! There’s nothing you could’ve heard, _if_ there was something to hear.”

A short sigh is finally breathed into the receiver. “All of my employees go to your school. They see you there all the time. They talk.”

_I hope Ten hasn’t heard anything. That would be fucking embarrassing._

“Except for Ten.”

“I’m not going to ask how you know that.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll tell you anyway.” He drummed pen against paper, glancing back at his puppy’s fluttering eyelids. “I saw him a couple days ago, I was…in his area.”

“You’re scary.”

In his defense, there was no stalking involved. He was just a good thirty minutes late to a panel he _did_ want to go to, and every minute spent in that elevator and not The Conaway Centre, kept him amused more than five gregarious professors ever would.

The tips of his ears started tingling again, threatening to bring back the flush from before, recalling just how’d close they’d gotten and how out of bounds he was shooting the whole time.

“I finally got him to genuinely _smile_ at me. But—”

“But you need my help?”

“I never ask for anything in return.”

In return for convincing his dad to add HTT to their list of charities and organizations worth donating a pretty check to every year, which kept HTT’s financial future cushy, secure and Johnny’s haven intact.

“This is collusion.” Another sigh crackles through from the other end, resigned, knowing there’s no way Johnny’s going to change his mind. “Not to mention he’s my best employee.”

“And _I’m_ your best customer.” Johnny flinches at the sudden warmth rubbing against his leg. Oliver’s tiny body trembles from the force of a wagging tail, looking up at his owner, ready to play. “The best deserves the best.”

He picks up the puppy, fur feathery to the touch, making sure to push the pen and notebook to the back of the desk, far from soon-to-be teething gums.

“Leaving it up to fate would be easier, you know.” Oliver spreads onto Johnny’s lap, soft brown eyes looking curiously at the device emitting a voice failing to talk him out of it. “He’s one of the few people who see right through that rehearsed smile.”

“Did fate help you with HTT?”

“That’s diff—”

“I can’t count on fate.”

Fate’s helped Johnny enough. Every chance he’s gotten, he’s taken, and now it was his turn to draw.

“You didn’t even let me finish!”

“Oh. And for Ten, nothing’s ever rehearsed.”

Johnny placed his phone on the desk, tapping the speaker button so he could free up hands to play with Oliver.

“Are you listening? He’s not even listening.” The voice said to no one in particular; the person it was intended for was far too busy tickling the velvety tummy of an excited pup.

“Johnny.” Taeil waits until the distracted med major waits reacts to his name, ignorant to the fact the grunt of supposed acknowledgement came from the puppy in Johnny’s lap. “Just this once, since you’ve done more for me than I can count. But I’m doing this for Oli too. He needs proper home training, and so do you.”

“There’s the Taeil I know and love.” Johnny was listening, selectively.

“On one condition.” Of course there was, but that didn’t mean Johnny would follow through, and what Taeil didn’t know, wouldn’t hurt him. “I don’t want you coming to the store all mopey and broody if— _when_ —Ten does his worst.”

“I’m counting on it.”

Johnny skips the goodbye as a satisfied smile breaks onto his lips, overeager to hang up the phone and put his ideas down on paper—after playtime.

The constant buzz of the city that amused him ceased to amaze years ago, and the need for something, _anything_ , that called for spontaneity gnawed at him.

This need didn’t manifest from a lack of things to do—he was a med major drowning in senior year independent study—but from a taste. A taste of getting lost in a familiar place and unintentionally finding a piece of paradise nestled between the distracting glass of downtown’s skyscrapers. A paradise where he could drown in boundless attention from puppies instead of papers, somewhere he could get his release. And that same place that gave him a taste of discovery on day one of freshman year, introduced him to a walking enigma at age twenty-two.

He had spent three years looking away from the crowd, when he should’ve been looking through it all along.

Ten made Chicago fresh again. And he needed the source of it all, to be as selfishly head-over-heels for him, as he was for Ten.


	5. give & fake

He should be enjoying the ride out of downtown, taking in every part of the city, watching as dense skyscrapers shrink to brick and mortar complexes.

Instead, he can’t ignore the twitch in his eyebrow, that started the moment he realized how close he was to the one campus he’d never willingly visit.

Taeil wouldn’t tell him who the house call was for, but he knew. Despite such a transparent hidden agenda, he didn’t want to believe he’d been the victim of such an obvious setup. House calls weren’t common, and if they did get a request for one, his manager went, not regular employees.

Not him.

Unless the request came from Johnny. Because Johnny gets everything he wants, and he wanted Ten.

Or so Johnny wanted to convince Ten, but if it was up to _Ten_ , he’d rather not indulge the evident boredom of one Chicago native. Especially not when his own hands were already full managing waning time.

If only he’d known Taeil was running a corrupt operation that slept with capitalism’s son. This could have all been avoided—whatever _this_ was.

He could’ve avoided the dreaded formation of Johnny memories starting to tangle into the ones of _his_ Chicago. And there was only one way to keep them from turning invasive: pull them at the roots.

But—as painful as the truth was—he barely protested. He’d said yes, even before the promise of overtime pay. Because the last time they saw each other, it was fun—more than he cared to admit. The push and pull was gratifying. 

And if self-indulgence was a sin, who would he be, if not a sinner? 

 

* * *

 

He’d made it a point to ask Taeil for every insignificant detail of Johnny’s building—down to the code needed to open the front gate—all in hopes of avoiding any extra contact with the resident.

So, when he found himself in front of said gate, after thirty minutes cramped in a sweaty train and another fifteen in a questionable Uber, all previous mental preparation abandoned him.

Who could truly prepare themselves to face the inevitable?

Ten knew, as he gripped cast-iron to access a simple courtyard, this wouldn’t end in any way favorable to him. The probability of Johnny gaining the upper hand was too high, too obvious, too real.

It scared him. Irritated him. Made him want to rip the handle off the door to the stairwell he just reached. The stairwell, because taking the elevator was out of the question, ever again.

Maybe, just maybe, he was overreacting, and in turn proving everything he was failing to ignore, but that was something to face another day—or never.

He wasn’t going to let some irrelevant _whatever_ get in the way of his job. He was a big boy. He was getting paid, he was going to help the puppy _he_ found. On a Saturday, in enemy territory, but a job nonetheless.

He could fake it.

One last deep breath, before taking the three flights up to Johnny’s apartment and hovering in front of a cream door he’d have to knock on sooner, rather than later.

He grants himself a few more moments, compulsively pulling at the cuffs of today’s choice pink denim jacket. Then, finally, he raps two quick knocks right under the chipping russet paint of a room number.

It doesn’t take a fraction of a second before the door opens, and Ten’s winded all over again.

Johnny looked so, naturally _disarmed_ leaning against the door, in adidas joggers and a gauzy white tee, its relaxed neckline hanging from prominent collarbones. The sight almost a distraction from satisfied lips, their naturally curled edges teasing hidden intentions. “You made it.”

The irritation that had been quietly simmering under Ten’s default mask of indifference, once again meeting its catalyst.

“Tragically.”

Ten doesn’t wait for Johnny’s reaction, opting instead to squeeze past him, trying a little too hard to avoid any physical contact. He scans the studio bathed in late-afternoon light, homing in on the ball of fuzz curled at the foot of Johnny’s bed.

“Hey there, baby.” He greets the drowsy body with a smile as bright as its fur, crouching down to run fingers through the tuft between its ears. The puppy was resting on a makeshift bed, a pile that had Ten throwing back a steely look completely opposite from the tenderness he’d been radiating moments ago. “You need to buy him a real bed.”

Johnny had closed the door, looking on in fascination at one tiny employee and the invisible wall readily torn down for an even tinier puppy. He slides both hands into the pockets of his sweats, its waistband skimming the hem of his tee.

“I usually have him sleep with me. That is, until I have to let him go.”

Johnny worked hard, but Ten’s emotional contractors worked harder, stacking brick after brick as soon as the former opened his mouth.

Ten snaps his head back toward the man who’d stolen his Saturday, shocked thatJohn Suh would stoop as low as taking on a helpless life for the sake of some fleeting power move.

“You adopted him, just to fucking abandon him?” It came out too hostile, too bothered, taking a chip out of his protective layer.

Ten cared about his puppies, their innocence, their unyielding trust in human beings that didn’t deserve them. And for someone like Johnny to take advantage of that, because of stupid ulterior motives born from a kindergarten crush on _him_? Something neither of them asked for?

Ten’s time was being wasted.

Unfazed by the aggressive assumption, Johnny shrugs.

“I have a weakness for cute things in distress, remember?” He starts explaining slowly, walking over to his kitchen, while Ten’s eyes clung to the sharp outlines of working shoulder blades, moving arms opening and closing cabinets in search of a glass.

His fingertips poke at the skin of a supple tummy, the pup now fully awake, with paws palming at air, enjoying the attention. But Ten’s thoughts were far from focused, preoccupying his hands to ignore the building tension threatening to show.

The little patience reserved for John Suh’s antics had already grown thin, worn down by the second as he was forced to play defense. Johnny’s beige walls were stifling, uncomfortable, and this unwilling appearance only made it harder to exist within a space he didn’t know.

Four walls, closing in.

Johnny finally finds a glass, then takes a water pitcher from the fridge, only to lazily pour its chilled contents at the expense of one employee hanging on to every action.

The silence between them marked with muffled sounds of an impatient city, faint sirens, hasty metros, unpredictable white noise that for once, wasn’t soothing. Paired with waning light as it inched closer to sunset, reality had created an achingly slow pocket of time and Ten was powerless to do anything other than wait for Johnny to drink one single glass.

Johnny turns to face his guest, taking a sip before setting it down on the sandy granite of a mini island.

“I know someone who trains therapy dogs and places them in good homes.” He stares into the ever-elusive gaze challenging him, dragging an index finger through condensation fogging curved glass. “They’re always looking for puppies to train, and golden retrievers just happen to be in demand.”

Ten’s hand falls through sunny fur, a small tongue lapping at his fingers, blissfully unaware of what was happening between the two other bodies in the studio.

Johnny leans over the countertop, propping up an elbow to rest chin on palm.

The physical space between them made a point they were both aware of, but neither reacted to. A childish stare-down that Ten was losing, while Johnny patiently waited for the—undoubtedly amusing—response to unexpected information.

“You’re so full of shit.” Ten scoffs, looking away as soon his least favorite pair of lips part to show teeth.

He can’t tell if Johnny is scary good at staying one step ahead, or if the latter shoots in the dark with perfect aim. Whichever of the two, it never fails to to make his life that much harder.

“Not _everything_ I say is a lie you know.”

“But most of it is.”

“You still haven’t forgiven me for last time, then?”

“What’s there to forgive?”

The laugh that escapes from Johnny’s chest is shamelessly cheery. “You’re too quick.”

“I’d never _intentionally_ lie, to you.”

“Hm,” Ten nods, looking anywhere but the general kitchen area, bold sarcasm and exaggeration masking his discomfort. “So, it is _just_ an act. Always so together, not caring what anyone thinks of you.”

Johnny tilts his head, long fingers pressing into cheekbone as his expression drips sweetness and sincerity.

“You’d be surprised.”

Gross.

All of it, is gross, and he doesn’t want to deal with it anymore.

He cuts their conversation short, rising to grab whatever could count as supplies for taking care of a dog. Johnny had made it easy, for once, having everything relatively organized in the corner nearest to where he slept.

The puppy forced into the background had taken to chasing its tail, but Ten wills him back into the spotlight. He sits in the middle of the studio, facing johnny, after cradling the puppy in his arms, distracting it with attention.

Before Johnny could even think of speaking again, Ten starts his explanations of puppy behavior and uses for each (HTT sponsored) product in front of him, careful not to linger too long on the blissful face watching him. But, Oliver—as Johnny conveniently mentioned between mini-lessons—eventually grew restless, so did his owner.

“I have an idea.” Johnny interjects as Ten catches a breath, straightening his back after nearly half-an-hour hunched over the mini island.

He’d been content standing there, listening to Ten drone on about what he should and shouldn’t be doing, but he could get that any day at HTT. This door he’d—quite literally—opened couldn’t go to waste.

“Taeil doesn’t pay me to listen to whatever it is you have to say.” Ten doesn’t bother looking up, massaging his thumbs around the sensitive spot behind Oli’s ears.

Any effort to engage him was trivial with the space between them. So, in Johnny’s impatience, he does exactly what Ten doesn’t want him to do.

He goes and sits right in front of him, legs crossed, arms crossed, in some attempt at seriousness.

“It’s my money, and your time.” He uncrosses his arms, reaching over the supplies subbing in for Ten’s invisible wall, to pet Oli still squirming in the latter’s arms. “Besides, you’ll like this.”

Ten’s eyes flit up to Johnny’s, as the puppy relaxes under a more familiar touch.

“I doubt it.”

A corner of Johnny’s mouth curls.

“Why don’t we make a deal?”

A deal, one of the things humans did for each other that wasn’t a complete waste. Two parties, on opposite sides, trying to understand each other by mutual give and take.

Johnny takes Ten’s silence as interest, staring at features he’d hope to see this close, more often.

“Let’s be friends.”

Friends. Right.

Spoken with ease, as if Ten shared in the seemingly universal capacity that college students had, to make casual friends. He can’t help but laugh at how absurd it sounds spoken in real life. A proposition of _friendship_. Simple.

But he stops, quickly realizing he was laughing at a joke Johnny wouldn’t, and could never, understand.

“I’m serious! Friends, nothing else.” Johnny pulls back, leaving Oli to Ten’s protective grasp. He pushes down on his knees, leaning in. “But, if you _did_ want to kiss, occasionally, in a wholesome, friend way, I’d be more than willing to add that in the fine print.”

“Does this mean you’ll stop harassing me?”

“To say yes would be to admit I harass you.” The obnoxious look of concern on Johnny’s face wasn’t convincing. “Which I’d never do.”

“ _Of course not_.” Ten scoffs, eyes wide with feigned innocence.

“So,” Johnny looks down at the miscellaneous supplies in front of him and starts to set each item to either side, clearing the space between them. “do we have a deal?”

What Johnny _probably_ had in mind, was compromise, but a deal came with odds. Odds that one of the two parties would inevitably fall prey to the fine print.

Odds he didn’t mind entertaining, because he wasn’t a complete walking bundle of self-indulgence and manipulation. He did _like_ taking a chance, enjoying games he was likely to win.

“If you try to kiss me—" Ten breaks through his own imagined defenses, leaning into Johnny’s space. He lets the puppy jump down from his arms, to look into eyes he’d been avoiding. “I’ll kill you.”

Johnny’s more than happy to meet a threat halfway, steadying hands on carpet, stopping inches away from the other’s nose.

“You’re always so violent with me.” He tilts his head to catch the last warm rays of the evening. Even through filtered beams, the setting sun reflected flecks of golden-brown in Johnny’s eyes, irises flashing a bronze that was lost the last time they were this close.

“That makes you a masochist, doesn’t it?” Ten’s lips twitch, trying to fight a smile.

“Maybe you’re just a sadist.”

“Why don’t we find out?”

A giggle bubbles out of Johnny, who hurries to cover the crack in his demeanor by pressing both palms into blushing cheeks. The coy smile that had been slowly growing the moment Ten walked into his studio finally burst into a grin, and Ten realized the college student hell-bent on “befriending” him was a complete and utter softy. 

Johnny recovers, smile lost to smugness. He shrugs, “I’ll save it. I have a date tonight."

Silence falls between them, Ten unable to process the concept of John Suh _dating_. He’d gotten so used to the latter’s pursuits that Johnny actively seeing _anyone_ hadn’t crossed his mind.

His mind had set him up for exclusivity on some weird attention receiving level, that had never affected him before. And now, that Johnny had so strategically mentioned his plans, Ten wasn’t sure why it mattered.

No one _actually_ dates anymore. So, was this a sex thing? Living, breathing human beings wanted to fuck Johnny? So, was this sudden confusion…jealousy? Which could never be it, because there was nothing to envy about being the object of an idiot’s affection.

Either way, thoughts of Johnny’s existence outside of his connection to Ten, was something the latter refused to dwell on.

Johnny laughs at the blindsided stare his statement receives, standing up to stretch his legs. He slips a hand underneath his shirt, a habit formed from the comfort of feeling his higher-than-average body heat.

The hem lifts with his forearm, exposing defined lines that Ten’s eyes follow until they hit waistband. “ _Or_ , should I cancel on them tonight?”

“Why would _I_ ever stop you?” Ten drags his gaze back up half-exposed midriff, eyes narrowing when they meet Johnny’s. “ _Friends_ don’t stop _friends_ from good dick.”

“Not everything is about sex, Ten.”

“When you look like _that_ ,” his eyes dip to trace Johnny’s cupid’s bow, “and I look like _this,_ it is.”

Johnny takes that as a veiled admission of mutual sexual attraction, buried under the obvious intention to get him to confess he didn’t just want innocent friendship.

He laughs to himself again, walking over to his bed. Falling back onto cashmere billows, he tucks crossed arms under his head, making no move to pull at the tee now exposing toned stomach all the way up to his belly button. “If I played it your way, you’d be bored.”

“You’re such a great friend already, always thinking of me, and my state of amusement.” Ten shrugs off his jacket, throwing it over a passing desk chair after standing and walking over to the edge of the bed, hovering over Johnny. “How _thoughtful_.”

They watch each other, Ten, for once, looking down at the one person senseless enough to persist until time inevitably ran out.

But right now, in the moment they were both living in, where this was going, hadn’t happened yet, and everything was possible until one of them decided to make it impossible.

Ten would rather play his way, than not at all.

The springs of the bed dipped under Ten’s knee, as he slung his leg over Johnny’s torso, pressing a hand into surprisingly soft skin. He leans down, looking into the softened radiance of eyes waiting to see how far he’d go. Stopping where his breath tickles earlobes, he whispers, “you aren’t wearing glasses today.”

Johnny breathes out, raising a hand to cover the red spreading from his ears. “You think I’m an idiot.”

“What gave it away?” Ten gifts him space, pulling away with a satisfied smile.

But he sees tongue slide over a sly grin, and fingers snake over his wrist, keeping him in place. There’s a gentleness that doesn’t go unnoticed, aware of the pinky finger circling the grove where palm meets forearm.

The shadow of a setting sun fractures the room into shards, cool patches with veiled shapes cut by beams full of shining particles suspended in its glow.

Swirling dust dances between the two bodies at a standstill, searching each other’s faces as if they had all the time in the world. 

What Ten does, or doesn’t find in the depths of muted irises, is lost to his subconscious, their unmistakable tenderness threatening to melt the urgency he needed to survive the semester.

He jerks his wrist away, sliding off the bed to grab his jacket, leaving without so much as a last glance back.

Until he’s safely on the other side of that cream door, mentally apologizing to the puppy he didn’t say goodbye too, and running away from the person who had managed to stop time.

**Author's Note:**

> [twitter](twitter.com/soieiis)   
>  [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me/neodefs)
> 
> edit: tysm for 100 kudos T__T ♡


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